


I Am Lower Now, and Lower Still

by camwolfe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Dissociation, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve goes down during a battle. He wakes up in 2123. </p><p>He can't do this again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Blackberry Stone", by Laura Marling.

“You’ll be careful?”

Steve sighed. “Of course, Buck.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. He was leaning against the counter, his elbows resting on the marble surface as he watched Steve get ready. “Don’t ‘of course’ me. You’re never careful.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, I’ll try to be.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” Steve said firmly. He reached for his shield and swung it behind him, settling it against his back. “You’ll be alright here?”

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, watching tv all day is gonna be really hard. And I’m going to have to make myself dinner. It’ll be a real struggle.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Yes, Steve, I’ll be fine.”

“I mean, you could come with us if you want – “

“I don’t,” Bucky said firmly. He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “Why? Did someone ask you to ask me to come? Did – “

“No, no,” Steve said hastily. “Everyone respects your decision. It’s fine. I just…”

Bucky waited.

“I just don’t want to leave you,” Steve said finally.

Bucky watched him for a moment. “It’s only for a few days.”

“I know.”

Steve’s phone beeped impatiently. He sighed.

“Well, I gotta go.”

Bucky moved like he was going to step towards him, but he stopped at the last minute. He crossed his arms again, not looking at Steve.

“You aren’t even going to give me a kiss goodbye?” Steve asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Nope,” Bucky said. “You get one when you get back. Safely.”

“Just one?” Steve asked as he headed for the door.

“Okay, maybe more than one,” Bucky called after him as Steve went out into the hallway. “Maybe a few.”

“Looking forward to it,” Steve called back. He let the door swing shut behind him.

They never said goodbye to each other, and today was no different.

 

It was a favour to Maria Hill. That was only reason they were there.

Hell, Steve hadn’t even seen any of the other Avengers in months. But Maria’s sister had gone missing while hiking in the Canadian Rockies, and when Maria had investigated she’d found something much too big to handle on her own.

She’d called Tony and Fury, Tony had called Bruce, Bruce had contacted Jane and therefore Thor, Fury had called Natasha (who’d been with Clint at the time), and Natasha had called Steve. Steve had called Sam.

It wasn’t the most organized way that they’d ever come together, but within three days they were all armed, assembled, and on a quinjet headed north.

Sure enough, they’d found a heavily guarded fortress nestled amongst the trees. Inside, hundreds of people were strapped to tables, caught in the throes of some truly horrific human experimentation.

As expected, several of the Avengers team had a problem with this.

Within ten minutes of their arrival, half of the place had been reduced to rubble. Sam, Thor, and Tony were up above, taking out escaping guards and scientists as they made a break for it.

Inside, Clint and Natasha moved from room to room, freeing the trapped prisoners and sending them in Steve’s direction. They took turns hauling out the ones that couldn’t walk.

Steve was at the newly-formed entrance in one of the walls. He was helping people make their way out of the rubble and sending them in the direction of the quinjet. Tony had already called in backup, and the police and military were on their way.

Bruce was somewhere in the middle of the building, having a great time ripping it apart.

“Alright, looks like they’ve got more weaponry on the fences around the perimeter,” Tony said through the comm in Steve’s ear. “Cap, either get inside or get out. You’re in a bad spot.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Steve said as he helped a girl climb over the crumbled cement. “These people are hurt, they can’t climb out of this on their own.”

“Then I’ll blow another hole in the side of the building,” Tony snapped. “You’re completely exposed, and you’ve got incoming on the left.”

“He’s right, Steve,” Sam said. “I’m on my way, but you gotta move.”

A man was trying to climb over the rubble, with two kids under each arm.

“My wife,” the man gasped out as Steve grabbed one of the kids and swung him to safety. “She’s still inside!”

“We’ll get her out,” Steve said reassuringly. He leaned forward to grab another one of the kids.

He felt the bullets rip through him, but it took several seconds before the pain hit.

Fire washed up his back and into his shoulders, thundering into his skull. He felt himself hit the ground, his head cracking against the corner of a chunk of cement. He didn’t know how many times he’d been shot, but he tried to move and found that he couldn’t. People were screaming through the comm link in his ear, yelling his name and yelling at each other. Steve tried to respond, but all he managed was an ugly wet gasp before his breathing start to hitch and waver.

He tried to get his eyes open, but the blood from the wound on his head was sticky and obscured his vision. He finally gave up, the darkness dragging him down.

Steve felt hands on him, and then he was being lifted. He couldn’t hear or see anything, and even that sense eventually faded away.

Then, there was nothing.

 

Steve’s eyes flew open. He was lying face down, his skin cold and exposed. The beeping of machines and low murmur of voices told him that he was in an operating room.

He was in an operating room and his body was simultaneously on fire and being stabbed.

Steve tried to scream, but when he did no sound came out. He started twisting instead, but his arms and legs were heavy and uncooperative.

The voices grew louder, and suddenly someone was kneeling by his head.

“Captain Rogers, you need to stay still,” a nurse said frantically. “I know it hurts – “

Steve was trying to stop moving, he really was, but it felt like his back was being sliced open.

Which, now that he thought about it, was probably exactly what was happening.

“I know it hurts,” the nurse continued. “But we’re working on your spine and it’s very crucial that you _don’t move._ ”

A fresh wave of pain shot through Steve’s body, and he blacked out again.

 

A loud clanging noise was the next thing that he heard.

He forced his eyes open, but his vision was blurry. He was cold again, and metal was pressing up against his back. He was lying down, but he wasn’t on a bed.

He tried to focus on the sounds around him, to figure out where he was, but everything was muted and dull.

A loud hissing sound suddenly began. The air temperature suddenly dropped, and Steve started to scream but his throat was raw and his voice was gone. Excruciating pain shot through his feet, and then spread upwards through his legs and torso. It reached his shoulders and then his head.

This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening, they couldn’t –

 

When the pain started, it was so intense that it almost didn’t feel like pain. Steve wouldn’t have known what was going on if he hadn’t felt it before.

It started in his fingers and his toes, before slowly spreading to the rest of his body. A slight tingling sensation turned into a prickling wave of fire, which made its way through his arms and legs and into his chest.

He wanted to scream but he couldn’t. His lungs wouldn’t expand properly. Actually, his entire body wouldn’t move properly.

This couldn’t be happening.

He lost consciousness again.

 

Steve woke up in a bed.

He opened his eyes slowly. His body didn’t hurt anymore, and the room around him was quiet.

He was lying on a comfortable mattress, covered by a soft blanket. He was wearing a pair of unfamiliar sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Steve slowly sat upright and looked around. The room was empty except for the bed, with plain beige carpet and white walls. A door set along one wall opened onto what looked like a small washroom.

This was wrong. There were strict protocols in place for if Steve went down in battle. He was always taken directly to an Avengers medical center, where only doctors familiar with his body were allowed to work on him. Also, someone was always with him when he woke up. Steve didn’t know if that was an official rule, but one of his friends was always sitting next to him whenever he woke up in the medical wing. Always.

This room was unfamiliar to him, and no one was here.

He tossed the blanket aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just as he did so, the other plain white door set into one wall swung open.

A middle-aged woman hurried through, shutting the door carefully behind her. She was dressed in scrubs, her hair tied back into a neat bun.

“Please don’t try and get up,” she said hurriedly. “You’ve been injured.”

Steve stared at her warily. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” the woman said reassuringly. She paused in the middle of the room, folding her hands. “My name is Kimberly.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Steve said. He braced his hands on the edge of the mattress, on either side of his legs.

“You’re safe,” Kimberly repeated. “You were very badly hurt. You’re in a medical center.”

“A medical center,” Steve repeated. His sore muscles were starting to tense up. “You put me in cryo.”

Kimberly shook her head. “Captain Rogers – “

“I know what being frozen feels like,” Steve said, his jaw clenched.

“It was unavoidable – “

“How long,” Steve said. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. “How long was I under?”

Kimberly hesitated. “I – “

“How long?” Steve nearly shouted.

Kimberly cast a nervous glance towards the door, and then looked back at him. “It’s 2123.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a look at those tags, friends!

Steve stared at her. Kimberly stared back cautiously.

“2123,” Steve said. His voice sounded flat and distant, even to him.

“I’m sorry,” Kimberly said. She wrung her hands. “We thought it was best to tell you sooner, rather than later.”

Steve’s hands were starting to ache from how tightly they were clenched on the mattress, but he couldn’t move.

Kimberly took a few steps forward, and knelt in front of Steve. She put her hand on his knee.

“You were injured,” she said gently. “Badly, during a battle. You were rushed into surgery, but the damage was too severe. You were dying.”

Steve’s chest felt tight.

“You were transferred to a special facility,” Kimberly continued. “There were too many people who wanted your body, for their own purposes. You were pronounced dead, to keep you safe.“

Steve couldn’t feel his body anymore.

“Our organization believed that when medical technology advanced further, you could be saved. You were placed in a cryogenic hold, and kept safely in our guarded facility. Last week, our team successfully brought you out and repaired your wounds. You’ve been sedated since then, in order for you to heal properly.”

Steve focused on pulling air into his lungs and forcing it slowly out again, just like Sam had taught him.

“With our techniques, you’ve made a full recovery – “

“They thought I was dead?”

“Uh,” Kimberly said. “Yes, the public was informed of your demise for your own protection – “

“My friends,” Steve interrupted. He glared at the hand that Kimberly still had on his knee until she removed it. “Did they know? That I wasn’t dead?”

Kimberly looked uncertain. “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers. No one except for this medical team knew.”

Steve stared at the ground.

“What happened to them,” he said after a long moment. “My friends.”

Kimberly sighed and nodded. She got back to her feet.

“I’ll send someone in with that information,” she said softly. She turned and left the room, leaving Steve still sitting on the bed.

He wanted to move. He wanted to throw the bed through the goddamn wall. He wanted to tear this place apart with his bare hands.

But he couldn’t move.

 

Some time later, the door opened again. A girl came through, holding what looked like a tablet in her hand.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully. “My name is Tessa. This is pretty exciting for me, I have to admit. I’m a bit of a history buff.”

Steve stared at the floor in front of him.

“Well, let’s get started,” Tessa said when he didn’t reply. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not used to this technology. It’s a little… archaic.”

There was a light stain on the carpet in front of Steve’s bed. It was faint enough that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Steve wondered where it came from.

“So…” Tessa said slowly. “What would you like to know?”

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Barnes. James Barnes. What…”

“Ah, yes. Okay, one minute. Alright, I have it here. James Barnes passed away in 2017.”

Steve’s internal organs felt like they were ripping themselves apart. His blood was on fire and his skin was melting.

He couldn’t move.

“How,” Steve said. His tongue felt thick and clumsy.

“He, ah, he committed suicide,” Tessa said. “I’m sorry.”

Steve rationally knew that his bones weren’t breaking into thousands of tiny shards, but it sure as hell felt like it. He kind of hoped one of those shards would hit his heart and end this.

“Natasha,” Steve said.

“Romanov? One sec… Natasha Romanov was murdered in June, 2019, while she was grocery shopping. Her killer was never found.”

Steve didn’t know why she’d felt the need to add the part about the grocery shopping.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Hmm, there’s a lot of Sam Wilsons… oh, here’s the one. Sam Wilson was killed in a car accident at age 47. He left behind a wife and a son.”

Every breath that Steve’s traitorous lungs continued to take in caused him physical pain.

“Tony,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I know that one without having to look it up!” Tessa said cheerfully. “He died of a heart attack when he was 65.”

“Barton.”

“First name?”

“Clint.”

“Clint Barton…” Tessa mused. “Oh, here it is. His exact whereabouts are unknown, but he is suspected to have been killed in Vienna in 2020. That was the last time anyone heard from him.”

“Bruce Banner,” Steve said. The pressure in his head was growing.

“Also unknown. He disappeared in 2022.”

“Thor?”

“Earth has not had contact with the Asgardians since 2047.”

Steve’s shoulders and neck were starting to ache.

“Maria – “ he started to say.

“Hill? She died at age 84, from – “

“Don’t.” Steve said abruptly. He looked up for the first time.

Tessa looked back at him uncertainly. “Don’t… what?”

“Stop,” Steve said. “Stop talking. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“Oh,” Tessa said. “Okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll send someone else in.”

She left, leaving Steve sitting alone in the room.

The door shut behind her. Abruptly, all of the pain and rage rushing through Steve’s body vanished.

He was just empty, now.

It felt like someone had just removed all of his bones. All of his organs. They’d certainly taken his heart and his lungs.

Steve finally unclenched his hands from the mattress. He laid back down, curling up on his side.

He stared at the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone brought him a tray with food and water on it, at some point. He didn’t eat it. He didn’t drink the water.

 

A few more people came and went. Some of them talked to him. One man pressed a strange device against Steve’s arm for a few minutes and then left again.

Steve didn’t respond.

 

Finally, a man and a woman came in together. They were both dressed nicely, in suits and carefully-shined shoes. Their clothing looked similar to the kind that Steve was used to, but he was pretty sure that they were just dressing like that to make him comfortable.

They’d brought chairs. They set them down beside each other next to Steve’s bed. Both of them took a seat.

“Captain Rogers,” the man said firmly. “I know that this must be hard for you.”

“It will take time to process this,” the woman said. “We understand that, and we’re willing to give you all the time that you need.”

“Until what?” Steve asked. He sat up abruptly, noticing how both the man and the woman flinched slightly.

They looked at each other.

“What do you mean?” the man asked.

“Until what,” Steve repeated. “What do you want from me?”

They exchanged another look.

“We don’t want anything from you,” the woman said cautiously.

“Sure you do,” Steve said. He leaned back against the wall, his hands lying listlessly in his lap. “Just say it.”

“Fine,” the man said abruptly. “We want you to work for us.”

Steve sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he stared at the wall above the man’s head.

“With us,” the woman corrected. “We want you to work with us. You’d be compensated, of course, and in addition to that we’d help you with anything you need during this difficult time. Counselling, lodgings, perhaps an orientation – “

“No,” Steve said.

They looked at each other.

“No?” the woman said carefully.

“No,” Steve repeated. “I’m not going to work for you.”

“You don’t even know who we are,” the man said. “We can explain – “

“Do you want me to kill people?” Steve asked.

“Well…” the woman said.

“Not necessarily,” the man continued. “I’m sure you understand, Captain Rogers, that we would go out of our way to reduce loss of life wherever possible. However, sometimes there are necessary means to an end – “

“Not interested,” Steve said.

“Just let us – “

“No.”

They exchanged another glance.

“We saved your life,” the woman said. Her voice had an edge to it now.

Steve stared at her lethargically. “I wish you hadn’t.”

They both fell silent. Steve returned to staring at the wall.

They left after a while. Steve laid back down and let himself fall asleep.

 

 

They tried to make him eat.

People kept bringing him trays laden with food. He ignored it all.

His throat hurt and his stomach was starting to twist and ache, but he didn’t care.

Eventually, they came and put some kind of IV into his arm. He took it out the moment they left, but they just came right back in and put it back. Eventually he gave up and just let them do it.

He spent a few days just staring at the ceiling. It was plain white drywall, but there were miniscule cracks that Steve became intimately familiar with.

Someone brought him a tablet, at some point. He didn’t bother to pick it up.

They sent people in to talk to him. The man and the woman from before came back a few times, until it became pretty clear that Steve was neither going to talk to them nor acknowledge their presence.

Kimberly showed up at least once a day. She refreshed his IV, checked his vitals, took the blanket away and replaced it with a new one. Steve allowed her to do all of this. He moved listlessly when she told him to, and then laid back down the minute she let him go.

Tessa came in every morning. She babbled happily to him about… something. Steve didn’t listen. Finally, he sat up and told her, as politely as he possibly could, that he didn’t care about what she was saying. She looked a bit put out, but said goodbye and left. They didn’t send her in again.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed. A week, maybe? Probably more. He didn’t care.

 

Finally, they sent in the man from before. Steve was lying on his back, his hands resting on his stomach.

“Captain Rogers,” the man said. “We need your cooperation.”

“You’re not going to get it,” Steve replied mildly. He traced and re-traced the patterns on the ceiling with his eyes.

“Well, then. I’m afraid we’re going to have to move to more… drastic measures. I really hoped that it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Me neither,” Steve said.

The man left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WON'T BE THIS SAD FOREVER I PROMISE


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a light at the end of this dark dark tunnel

He was asleep when they came for him.

Steve woke up to the sensation of a needle sliding into his arm. He flinched instinctively, knocking the nurse who’d been injecting him into the opposite wall.

More people swarmed him. He kicked and scrambled to get his back to the wall, more out of habit than anything else.

Whatever they’d shot him up with worked, though, because his limbs grew heavy and his head started to spin. He slumped back onto the bed.

They dragged him onto the floor and then down the hallway. His knees scraped against the concrete, and his shoulders ached from the way they were holding his arms.

They threw him into an elevator, ignoring his feeble and frankly pathetic struggles to get free. The pressure in his ears grew as the elevator descended.

Moments later, he was being dragged again. He ended up thrown on a filthy concrete floor, his face pressed into it. Someone’s boot was against the back of his head.

“We don’t want to do this, Captain Rogers,” a voice said regretfully from somewhere above him. “Please. Just consider our offer.”

“You want me to kill people for you,” Steve said into the concrete.

“Not necessarily. We just want your help, for the betterment – “

“Of mankind, yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve said. The boot against his head pressed harder. “I don’t know you, I don’t know your damn organization, I don’t even know this goddamn century. Forgive me if I don’t trust your intentions.”

“We can teach you.”

Steve sighed. He gave up on trying to struggle and let his already slack arms and legs slump onto the concrete. “I don’t want to kill people. I never did.”

“But you’d be helping people in the long run.”

“That’s what they all say,” Steve said.

The voice sighed. “Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow to see if your answer has changed.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell them not to bother, but someone kicked him in the side of the head and his mind went blank.

 

They tried knives, first. They ripped his shirt off and cut his stomach. They sliced open his hands and his feet.

It hurt, but Steve had dealt with a fair amount of physical pain in his lifetime. He flinched and moaned occasionally, but mostly he just stared at the ceiling.

He got lost in his head for a while. It was nice. He started off by pretending that he was back in his apartment from 1938 with Bucky, the two of them just sitting at the table eating dinner. After a while, that apartment blurred into their 2015 apartment. There, Steve was sitting on the couch with Bucky lying next to him, his head in Steve’s lap. They were watching tv, Steve stroking Bucky’s hair.

Sometimes he was in a car with Sam and Natasha. Natasha was driving, and Sam was in the passenger’s seat. Sam was singing along to the radio, horrendously off-key but with enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Natasha was trying to pretend that she didn’t find it funny, but when Sam tried to hit a high note and failed horribly she laughed so hard that they nearly went off the road.

They switched to burning, then. It hurt a hell of a lot more than the knives and blades had. They went at his feet and hands again, using lighters and matches and even a few blowtorches.

Steve screamed and writhed and pulled at the restraints around his wrists and ankles so hard that the chafing skin started to bleed. They didn’t stop.

Steve closed his eyes and thought about Bucky chasing him up and down their block in 1929, being yelled at by their neighbours and by everyone they nearly knocked over. Steve had had to stop after a while because he couldn’t breathe, and Bucky had happily sat next to him until his lungs started expanding properly again.

When they were done, he was given a few hours of peace before they came back. They started off the morning by hitting him with batons and whichever blunt objects they had on them.

Somebody came in a while after that and asked if he’d changed his mind. Steve told him to go fuck himself, which didn’t go over well.

They used needles and knives the next day. By then, Steve’s ankles and wrists were slippery with blood from pulling at his restraints.

He started to lose track of the days. They waterboarded him for a while, which Steve hated. That one was the worst. He kept hoping that it would kill him, that they’d go too far and end this, and he’d finally be free.

They didn’t. They were always careful to draw back right when things started to look bad.

He finally just stopped replying to their offers to stop the torture. He was too tired to think of a witty reply. He just stared at the wall until they left.

Eventually, they strung him up by his wrists. He could touch the floor with his feet if he stretched, but then they broke his ankles and that didn’t matter anymore.

He lost feeling in his hands and arms almost immediately, but that didn’t stop the pain from his wrists flooding down to his head. One of his wrists snapped spontaneously, weakened by the lack of nutrition and the weight of Steve’s body.

They were also testing him, Steve knew. They sliced open his stomach and took notes on how long it took to heal. At one point, they hit his torso with some kind of object and Steve heard, rather than felt, his ribs on that side cave in.

They cracked things over his head. Poured acid on his chest. Screamed and yelled. Threatened to cut off his fingers and his toes.

Steve thought about taunting them into killing him, but his throat was too hoarse and raw for him to speak.

Steve decided that he didn’t like this century all that much.

 

It got to the point where everything was hazy. His vision was blurry, and he heard sounds as if from a distance. His head lolled against his chest and his entire weight was suspended by his arms. He knew he was hurt, and hurt badly, but it was a vague sort of pain.

He swung idly from his wrists, his feet scraping the floor. He had no idea how much time had passed.

Steve’s vision went dark, and he assumed he’d just passed out. It happened, sometimes.

But then his vision suddenly came back, and he realized that the lights had just gone out for a moment.

“What the fuck?” one of Steve’s torturers said. “What the fuck was that? Somebody go find out.”

Steve heard them all start arguing with each other. They fell silent when a muffled explosion sounded from somewhere above them.

“What the hell?” somebody said.

The sounds of people screaming started echoing from down the hallway.

Steve’s torturers ran, shouting and shoving each other out of the way in their haste to get to the door. It didn’t matter, because the door blew inwards a moment later.

More people entered the room. Gunshots sounded, and the torturers started to drop to the floor.

Steve watched his feet scrape against the floor, the linen pants they’d given him soaked with his blood. He kind of wished that he had socks. Even though both his ankles were broken, his feet were a little cold.

“Steve!” someone said joyfully. “Holy shit. Guys, I got him. Third floor down, fourth door on the right. We’re going to need medical. ASAP. Yeah, yeah, he’s alive, but I’m not going to be able to get him out on my own. Yeah, hurry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you there was a light


	5. Chapter 5

Somebody grabbed his waist and lifted him slightly. Steve grunted as the weight suddenly disappeared from his wrists and arms. It felt strange.

“I got you,” somebody said into his ear. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Whoever was holding him was making his ribs started to feel weird again. Steve wanted them to let him go, but he couldn’t be bothered to say that.

“Clint? Are you – oh.” someone new said. A woman.

“Yeah, I know,” the original person said. “Get him down, hurry hurry hurry.”

“Steve, you’re gonna be okay,” the new person said calmly. “We’re going to get you down from there.”

“Nat, get Sam in here first. I’m worried about trying to move him.”

“We only have eight minutes, we need to go.”

“Look at his ribs! I don’t even know how we’re going to get him out of here.”

“Sam, we need you in here now. No, no, do that after. We’ve got Steve, but he’s hurt.”

The pressure on Steve’s wrists suddenly disappeared, and with it everything that was holding Steve up. He dropped, his knees slamming into the floor.

Someone caught him before the rest of his body hit the ground.

“Steve, look at me,” the woman ordered. “Come on, open your eyes.”

“Nat, he doesn’t look good.”

“I know, Clint. That’s not helping.”

“Clint? Nat?”

“In here, Sam.”

A new voice joined the others. Steve didn’t care. The blood was starting to return to his hands and arms, and it hurt worse than most of the torture techniques had.

“Oh, shit.”

“I know.”

“Okay, get him sitting up. Yeah, careful. Steve, it’s me. Hey, buddy, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?”

Steve didn’t want to open his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could.

“Sam, we don’t have time for this. We need to get out now.”

Someone sighed. “Steve, I’m really sorry about this, but we’re going to have to help you get up and then we’re gonna have to walk out of here.”

“Where’s Tony? Or Thor? They can carry him out.”

“They’re still taking out the rest of the place.”

“Why does it matter? It’s going to blow up in a few minutes away.”

“It’s cathartic, I think.”

“Do you know what else would be cathartic? Getting Steve out safely.”

“Okay, okay.”

Steve was suddenly being pulled to his feet. He couldn’t help but groan as pain wracked his body again. He was kind of tempted to push them off and lie down on the floor, but he was too tired.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I know this must hurt. Just a little bit longer and then you can lie down again, okay?”

“You guys got him?”

“I think so. Ready?”

“Yes.”

The people holding Steve up between them moved forward. Steve automatically took a step, and felt himself nearly hit the ground again as his ankle gave out.

“Fuck!”

“Fucking motherfucker – “

“What? What happened?”

“Nat, check his feet, I think his ankles are busted – “

“It doesn’t matter if they are! We need to go!”

“Yeah, at least one of them is broken. I can see bone.”

“Steve, I’m sorry man, this is gonna hurt but you’re too heavy for us to carry. Think you can do this?”

Steve didn’t really have a choice in the matter, because they were moving again. He walked with them, focusing all of his energy on keeping his feet on the ground.

“Okay, stairs. There’s stairs coming up.”

“Great.”

More gunshots sounded.

“On your right, Nat.”

More shooting.

“Nice.”

The stairs were bad. Steve fell twice, but he was pulled upright both times.

Finally, fresh air wafted across his face. It felt nice, but then again everything that wasn’t excruciating pain felt nice.

“Not too much further, Steve.”

“Fuck, he’s heavy.”

“Maybe you’re just weak, Clint.”

“Really, guys? Really?”

“Okay, Steve, just take a step here – “

Steve felt his foot slam against something metal. He fell forward and was yanked upright again.

“Or do that. That works too.”

A few more steps, and Steve was finally, blissfully, being lowered onto something soft.

His body slumped backward, his head landing on what felt like a pillow. Steve gratefully started to slip into unconsciousness again.

“Oh, shit, no. Guys, keep him upright.”

“Are you sure? His ribs – “

“Watch his chest when he’s lying down, Nat. I think one of his lungs is punctured, and I don’t even want to know what else is happening in there.”

Steve was pulled into a sitting position again. His head swam, and his stomach rolled. His mouth tasted like blood.

“Woah, he looks bad,” another new voice said.

“We know, Tony. Where’s Thor?”

“He’s on his way. Where’s Bruce? Bruce! Get over here!”

“I’m coming, Tony, I was talking to Maria. Did you – oh, no.”

“Yeah.”

“Clint, can you sit behind him – yeah, like that. Nat, grab the medical supplies.”

Someone was pressed up against Steve’s back, holding him up. It was annoying. Steve wanted to lie down.

He coughed, and his mouth filled with blood.

“That bruising on his chest doesn’t look good.”

“I know. We need to get him back as soon as possible. Tony?”

“On it.”

There were some more loud sounds, and a new voice was added to the mix of people talking.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“Yeah, Thor.”

“Probably.”

“Clint, maybe try and be a little more optimistic.”

“I’m being realistic!”

“Sometimes that’s not useful or necessary.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“What is it, Sam?”

“Bruce, take a look at his wrist. And his ribs on this side.”

“Damn it.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll have to deal with that later. He’s already in enough shock as it is.”

“It’ll just get worse the longer we leave it.”

“I know. Is he responsive?”

“Not really. Clint?”

“He was totally out when I found him.”

“He walked with us, though.”

“That’s good. Natasha, let Sam get closer.”

“Steve? Hey, Steve, can you open your eyes for me?”

“Bruce, there are blankets in that second cupboard against the wall.”

“Okay.”

The voices faded away for a little while. Steve’s head swam, and the muted sounds of people talking were comforting. He wanted to stay like this.

Then somebody pried his eye open and shone a light at him.

Steve flinched. He scrambled backward, shrugging off the people that were trying to hold onto him.

“Ow! Fuck.”

“Woah, woah, Steve, it’s okay.”

Steve’s eyes were open now, but everything was blurry and indistinct. He blinked frantically, curled in on himself to protect his broken ribs.

Someone had their arms around his shoulders, but they’d let him get his back to the wall.

A woman knelt down on the bed in front of Steve. She moved slowly and cautiously.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Steve, it’s me. Do you know where you are?”

Steve stared at her blearily, and then frowned in confusion as her face swam into focus.

“Nat?” he asked hoarsely.

She smiled. “Yeah. Can you tell me where you are?”

Steve leaned his head back against the wall, not taking his eyes off of her. “You’re dead.”

The room fell silent around them. Natasha glanced at someone sitting next to her.

“No, I’m not,” she said slowly. “I’m right here, Steve.”

“No,” Steve said. His throat was scratchy, and it hurt to talk. “You’re dead. Everybody’s dead.”

Someone else started talking to him, but he was getting so dizzy and it hurt to breathe. He felt himself starting to pass out, and then they mercifully let him finally lie down.

He could finally sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve woke up to the sensation of his wrist breaking.

He screamed and twisted away, but people were holding him down.

“I’m sorry,” someone said desperately. “I’m sorry, Steve, we were hoping to get this done before you woke up.”

He pulled and fought as best he could, but the people holding him down were stronger than he was.

“Steve, you need to stay still,” a voice said. “We’re trying to help.”

“Just keeping going,” someone else said.

“He’s in pain!”

“There’s nothing we can do about that except get it over with more quickly.”

“There’s got to be something.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We could try morphine – “

“It doesn’t work on him!”

“Maybe if we made the dose high enough – “

“It still won’t have any effect.”

“The longer we wait, the more time his broken bones have to heal incorrectly.”

“We just need to do it.”

“You know what? Fine. Fine! Let’s get started again then. But you know what? You do it this time.”

“You know I’m not strong enough.”

“Let’s get Barnes in here then.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over real well. ‘Hey, Barnes, come here and help us re-break Steve’s bones while he screams in pain!’”

“Okay, I get it. Bad idea.”

“We need to stop wasting time. If we are going to do this, we need to do it now.”

“Fine. Everybody ready? Three, two, one – “

Steve screamed as pain shot through his ankle, the already fragile bone cracking again.

“This is fucking terrible.”

“Okay, the other one. Three, two, one – “

Steve blacked out as pain roared through his body again.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. It was peaceful. He liked it.

 

Sometimes a few voices reached him.

“Let me see him.”

“Not yet. Calm down first, and then you can see him.”

“I _am_ calm.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Because I’m angry!”

“I don’t care. You can’t go in there like this. You’ll stress him out even more.”

“Just let me see him, and then I’ll be fine.”

“Go take a lap around the building. Go for a jog. Go take some deep breaths. Then you can go sit with him.”

“But – “

“He’s stable and he’s still unconscious. I’ll keep an eye on him until you calm down.”

The voices continued, but Steve drifted away again.

 

His entire body was aching the next time he woke up.

All of his broken bones throbbed. His head was pounding and his limbs were weak and exhausted.

He forced his gritty eyes open. The fluorescent lights of what was clearly a hospital room sent sharp spikes of pain through his head.

“Hey,” someone said softly, from the side of his bed.

Steve slowly turned his head. Bucky was sitting in a chair next to his bed. He was hunched in on himself and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he was there.

“Welcome back,” Bucky said.

Steve stared at him.

“You’ve been sleeping for a while,” Bucky continued. He straightened up and leaned toward Steve. “You’re okay now, though. You know that, right?”

Steve’s heartbeat monitor started to beep more urgently. Bucky cast a worried glance at it.

“Steve, it’s okay.”

Steve was pretty sure that he was in hell. He didn’t really know what he’d done to deserve this, but here he was. Doomed to watch Bucky die in front of him, over and over again on an endless loop. He wondered how it would happen this time.

Bucky was frowning. He looked anxious. He leaned forward again and gently rested his hand on Steve’s arm.

Steve flinched away, and Bucky pulled back.

“Steve?”

Bucky’s hand had felt warm on Steve’s skin, which was weird because dead people became cold pretty quickly. Steve knew that well. Once, he’d carried an injured man on his back for miles and miles before he’d realized that the man had died. It'd been awful. They’d had to leave him on the side of the road, there hadn’t been time to bury him. Steve didn’t even remember the guy’s name. He wondered –

“Steve…”

Maybe Bucky’s hand just felt warm because Steve himself was dead. Maybe he really had died when he’d crashed the plane. Or maybe he wasn’t dead, and he was still stuck in the ice. Maybe his body had frozen but his mind had stayed awake, and after years and years of being trapped in the cold and the dark he’d come up with this fantasy world. A world where Bucky was alive and here with Steve. A world where buildings were controlled by robots and aliens fell from the sky and there were simple medications for illnesses that had decimated Steve’s neighbourhood when he was a kid.

“What happened?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Then again, if this was Steve’s imaginary fantasy world, why was he constantly getting hurt? Also, wouldn’t his mother have been here? He was pretty sure that if he designed a world, he wouldn’t have made one that still had wars. He’d imagine a peaceful place, where Bucky was safe and happy and didn’t get tortured or experimented on.

Steve closed his eyes and fell asleep again, ignoring the sounds of people saying his name and gently shaking his arm.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve felt better when he woke up again. His lack of movement, combined with properly set bones and a steady IV drip, had kicked his healing factor back into gear.

His previously-broken bones were no longer sharp and throbbing. A familiar steady ache had set in, but it was much more bearable than before. Hell, he’d been in pain like this daily before the serum.

Steve opened his eyes. He blinked groggily at the fluorescent lights above him.

“Morning,” Sam said from beside his bed.

Steve turned his head to look at him, his stiff muscles complaining.

Sam was sitting in a chair, a book in his lap. He was watching Steve carefully.

Bucky was on the couch behind Sam. He was sitting like he had when he’d first come back. He was sitting stiffly upright, his feet flat on the floor and his hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed and Steve knew he was asleep, but the tension and stress was evident in the way he was holding himself.

Steve winced to see it. It had taken months before Bucky had relaxed enough to sleep lying down, and even longer until he’d been able to spread out completely.

Clearly, he wasn’t relaxed now.

“Hey,” Sam said. “You with me?”

Steve dragged his eyes away from Bucky to stare tiredly at Sam. “Yeah.”

Sam smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

Steve sighed and looked away. He fixed his gaze on the blank wall in front of him.

“You should go,” Steve said slowly.

“Go where?”

Steve shrugged listlessly. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s away from here.”

Sam frowned and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere. At least not until you’re out of the hospital. None of us are.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean you need to leave for good.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“It’s better,” Steve continued. “You were doing fine, Sam. You had a good life before all this.”

“I’ve got a pretty good life now.”

“And it won’t last very long if you stay,” Steve said. “People die around me, Sam. And you know that what we do is dangerous.”

“It’s worth it.”

Steve shrugged again. “Is it?”

He glanced over at Bucky, who was still asleep. His back was rimrod straight, and his hands were white with how tightly they were clenched on his knees. He definitely was asleep though, although Steve knew that if anyone came within a foot of him he’d snap back awake.

Sam followed his gaze. “Steve…”

“Give the wings back,” Steve said. “Go get your job back at the VA. Get married. Have kids. Or don’t. Do whatever you want. Just don’t… don’t do this.”

“Steve, I chose this,” Sam said sharply. “I know what I’m doing.  I knew what I was getting into when I signed up to help you.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t know how else to convince Sam of this.

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, I do,” Sam said. He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was pararescue before I ever met you, Steve. Let me make my own decisions.”

Steve slumped back into his pillows. He couldn’t argue against someone saying something like that. Especially after what Bucky went through.

He stared up at the ceiling again.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said slowly. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Hey,” Sam said, a little more gently. “Steve, everybody’s okay. We’re all just worried about you.”

Steve blinked tiredly. He just wanted everything to stop. “Can I get out of here?”

“Not yet. You’re doing better, but you’re still healing.”

“How long?”

Sam sighed. He looked tired. “I don’t know.”

Steve looked at the ceiling again. “You should go.”

“Steve…”

Steve closed his eyes and pretended to go back to sleep. That pretending turned almost immediately into actual sleep.

 

Only Bucky was there when Steve woke up again.

Bucky was sitting in the chair next to the bed, his gaze vacant and fixed on the wall.

“Hey,” Steve said hoarsely.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to him, and then back to the wall. Steve winced. He hadn’t seen Bucky this withdrawn in months.

“Wanna help me break out of here?” Steve said impulsively.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to him again, but there was a little more life in his face this time.

“You can’t. You’re hurt.”

“I’m better,” Steve said honestly. “I can make it back home.”

“The doctors said you need to stay,” Bucky said slowly.

“Yeah, but when have I ever listened to them?”

Bucky thought about that for a few moments. “If we leave, you have to promise to rest when we get home.”

“Deal,” Steve said.

Bucky found Steve some real clothes, and Steve carefully unhooked his IVs while he was gone. A few of the nurses protested as they saw Steve leaving, but he politely brushed them off and followed Bucky to the staircase.

They just took a cab back to their apartment. Steve’s vision got kind of grey and fuzzy after the walk down to the cab, and he let Bucky handle the directions. He slumped against Bucky’s shoulder, his head spinning.

Their apartment was several floors up, and there was no elevator in their building. Steve’s head swam as they started up the stairs.

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You look dizzy.”

“I am.”

“Then – “

“Bucky.”

Bucky hovered impatiently next to Steve as he slowly made his way up the stairs, his newly-healed wounds protesting. Bucky bounded up the stairs to the next landing and then down again, his anxiety evident on his face.

Steve sighed with relief as they finally made it back inside the apartment. He headed straight for the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

“Do you need anything?” Bucky asked from the doorway.

Wordlessly, Steve patted the bed beside him. Bucky came over and laid down next to Steve, the bed sinking slightly with his weight.

Steve slipped into sleep almost immediately, his exhausted body giving out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON ROAD TRIP NO WIFI EXCUSES EXCUSES EXCUSES


	8. Chapter 8

He woke up sometime the next day. He could hear Bucky moving around in the kitchen, but other than that the apartment was quiet.

He got up and took a shower, changing into clean clothes that didn’t smell like a hospital. He wandered back into his room after that, crashing on the bed again.

He watched the sun gradually make its way across the walls of the room. It was pretty, and he thought distantly about finding his sketchbook to try and capture it. His sketchbook was just in the living room, but the thought of getting up and walking all the way there to find it was intimidating. He’d have to find pencils, too, and that was just too much.

It was easier just to lie there.

 

It was dark when he opened his eyes again. Bucky was lying next to him. He wasn’t touching him, but Steve knew that he wasn’t asleep.

“Bucky?” Steve said quietly.

“Hm,” Bucky mumbled back.

“What year is it?”

“2016, last time I checked.”

Steve stared at the ceiling above him. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Why?”

Their room was so quiet. The soundproof windows and the thick concrete walls kept the sounds of the city out.

“They told me it was 2123,” Steve said.

Bucky was quiet for a moment.

“It’s not,” he said finally. “They lied to you.”

“They told me everyone was dead.”

“That’s pretty common.”

Steve slowly turned to stare at him. “What?”

Bucky was lying on his side, watching Steve. He shrugged. “It’s a pretty common tactic. Makes you feel like you’ve got nothing left to live for.”

“It worked,” Steve said distantly.

“Probably worked a little better on you than they expected.”

Steve nodded. His heart was starting to speed up. “They said you killed yourself.”

Bucky laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Well, can’t say it didn’t cross my mind. We didn’t know if you were alive or not.”

Steve abruptly sat up, staring at Bucky wildly. “Don’t say that.”

Bucky rolled onto his back and looked at him, unphased. “Don’t say what?”

“Don’t…” Steve said, trying to get the words out. His lungs wouldn’t cooperate. “Don’t say that you’d kill yourself.”

Bucky sat up and shrugged. “I didn’t, I said it crossed my mind.”

Steve grabbed his shoulders, his breath starting to come in short gasps. “You can’t, you, you have to promise me, I can’t…”

“Woah, Steve,” Bucky said, his expression growing alarmed. “Steve, it’s okay.”

“Stop saying that!” Steve said frantically. His hands were clenched tight on Bucky’s shoulders. “You were dead, I thought you were dead, again, and I couldn’t, I can’t…”

“Steve – “

Steve shook his head, “I can’t lose you again, I can’t.”

“You’re not going to – “

“And, and it wasn’t just you, they told me everyone was dead, everybody, that they’d all died and I was alone again – “

“You’re not.”

“I thought I was,” Steve told him, in between gasps for air. “I couldn’t do it, Buck, I couldn’t.”

Bucky looked well and truly worried now. His hands were gently holding Steve’s forearms, ignoring the way that Steve was probably crushing his shoulders.

“Steve, it’s okay,” Bucky said again. “That’s… that’s how they do it, that’s why they do it, they want to break you like that.”

Steve shook his head. “It was so easy, it was so, so easy, Buck, all they had to do was tell me that I was alone again and I broke – “

“You didn’t! They were gonna make you hurt people, Steve, they were going to use you and you didn’t let them.”

“But –“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted again. “They’re dead. They’re all dead. I saw the reports. Your friends tore that place apart looking for you, and then they destroyed it after they got you out. Anyone who survived is under arrest.”

That didn’t make Steve feel better at all.

“It wasn’t even Hydra who had you,” Bucky continued. He’d loosened his grip on Steve’s forearms a little. “They were just some insignificant political group, and they’re gone now.”

Steve shook his head. “They… it was nothing like what they did to you, Buck, nothing, and it… I didn’t even fight them, I didn’t even try to get out, I didn’t want to do it all again.”

“Hey, no,” Bucky said with a frown. “Steve, don’t compare what they did to me to what they did to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, although he didn’t know what he was even apologizing for at this point.

“No, I just meant…” Bucky trailed off. “What they did to me doesn’t make what they did to you any less horrible.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve mumbled.

“They tortured you, Steve. Romanov said you were almost dead when they pulled you out.”

“I…”

Bucky sighed and sat back a little. He gently pulled Steve’s hands off his shoulders, still holding onto his forearms. “Steve, we thought you were dead. I didn’t see it, but apparently you went down during the battle. Wilson went after you right away, but you were gone by the time he got there. They couldn’t find you anywhere. It took us a month and a half to locate you again, and even longer to figure out how to get you out alive.”

Steve slumped down onto the bed, shakily bracing his hands on the comforter. “It’s not… it’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to me, Bucky, I just thought… I mean, you’re all alive. Everyone’s fine.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that.”

Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t have to be.”

Steve shook his head, still covering his face with his hands. “I do. It’s my job.”

“Well you’re not on duty right now, are you?”

“That’s the problem,” Steve said, his throat feeling tight. “I always am. It never stops, Buck.”

“Steve,” Bucky said sadly, but Steve was already slumping down onto the bed. He curled in on himself, trying to hold back the hot tears that were stinging at his closed eyes.

“Steve,” Bucky said again. Steve let Bucky curl up against him, his metal arm heavy over Steve’s waist.

He gave up on trying to hold the tears back, burying his face against Bucky’s chest. He could hear the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat, clear and steady.

He finally drifted off to sleep, blocking out every sound that wasn’t Bucky’s heartbeat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo this contains the aftermath of a fight/disaster type thing. please be careful if that's something that could be upsetting for you

The nightmares were bad.

They lasted all night, every night. Steve woke up at least four or five times a night, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. Bucky was always sitting beside him, his face drawn and anxious. He’d run his fingers along Steve’s arm until he calmed down, only to drop straight back into another nightmare.

The day wasn’t any better. Steve moved around in a haze of panic and worry. He’d get distracted in the middle of making breakfast, and just walk away from the stove. After three minor kitchen fires, Bucky banned Steve from the kitchen entirely.

After that, Steve spent most of his time just sitting on the couch. He drifted in and out of panic attacks, never really calming down between them. His chest was always too tight, and his skin was always too hot. When his breathing got worse, he’d lose feeling in his hands and feet and sometimes his vision would go out completely too.

Sam ended up crashing on their couch, most nights. Bucky started calling him in a panic every morning when Steve couldn’t catch his breath for the third hour in a row, and Sam would spend his afternoon talking him down from it. By the time Steve passed out, exhausted, and Sam got Bucky calmed down too, it was too late for him to bother going home.

Steve felt terrible about it, but the panic was so completely incapacitating that he couldn’t even get the words out to apologize to Sam.

He did manage to ask Sam how he did it, once. How he wasn’t crumbling under the pressure like Steve was. Sam just laughed and replied “years of therapy.”

 

They called Steve in one morning. Some megalomaniac who’d grafted a jet pack into his skin and guns onto his arms, flying around above the city promising world domination. The usual. 

Steve didn’t want to go. He didn’t. The others could handle it.

That lasted until Bucky turned on the tv, and Steve saw the destruction the guy was wreaking upon the city with the bombs he was dropping.

He called Natasha back, despite Bucky’s attempts to get the phone out of his hand, and a few minutes later he was out the door. Bucky watched him go, his arms crossed over his chest and a worried frown on his face.

The battle was messy, but they won. At least, that’s what Steve was told. He spent his time on the ground, dealing with the injured and trapped civilians. Sam, Thor, and Tony were up in the sky above, fighting with the guy while the Hulk jumped from building to building, grabbing the bombs and tossing them harmlessly away from the city. They eventually drove the guy down into some kind of electric web that Clint and Natasha had set up.

Steve made his way through the ruined buildings and overturned cars. He found a man screaming and trying to lift part of a collapsed storefront off of his wife. Steve tossed the concrete and brick aside, freeing the trapped woman. The husband cried and shook Steve’s hand as the paramedics came in to take over.

A teenage girl was fighting to free her younger brother from a half-crushed car, tears rolling silently down her face as she assured him that he’d be fine. Steve pulled the twisted metal apart and helped the kid crawl out, handing him over to the sister as she thanked him.

He helped a group of firefighters free people from a pile of burning rubble. He pulled the side off a bus and helped the trapped passengers get free.

He saved a lot of people.

He did.

He knew that.

But there was also the minivan that Steve found crumbled against the side of a building. There was only one person left alive inside, a toddler strapped safely into his carseat. The rest of the family, two girls and the parents, were all dead.

Steve carefully pulled the carseat out and handed it over to the paramedics.

A woman walked up to him while he was making his way through another patch of rubble, a baby in her arms. She politely asked him where she should go to get for medical attention for her baby.

Steve could hear her heartbeat. It was strong and steady.

The baby didn’t have a heartbeat anymore.

Steve couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her. He pointed her in the direction of the paramedics and kept going.

A man was yelling for help, trying to lift a chunk of rubble off his daughter. The girl’s legs were trapped beneath it, her screams echoing along the street. When Steve pulled the concrete off, he immediately knew that her legs were too damaged to be saved. The girl would never walk again.

It was one thing after another. A woman who’d been burned when her car exploded. A man sitting on the ground, cradling his wife in his arms. A woman lying dead on the ground, her body covering her child. An elderly man whose car had smashed into a family’s in the chaos.

It was dirty and messy and by the time the streets were cleared, Steve was covered in blood that wasn’t his own. He went back over to the paramedics, but they waved him off. There was enough personnel there now that Steve wasn’t needed anymore.

He heard Natasha calling his name, but Steve turned and walked away. He made his way back through the settling dust and grime, his uniform sweaty and itchy against his skin.

He flagged down a cab when he got to a road that was still open. He’d already told the man his address and slumped back into the seat before he realized that he had no money on him.

He told the cab driver that he could run up to his apartment when he got there and get the cash, but the cab driver just shook his head.

“No charge,” he said wearily. “Not today.”

Steve thanked him and closed his eyes.

 

Bucky was hovering in the living room when Steve walked in. Steve shut the door behind him, his entire body aching. He felt himself swaying on his feet a little as he stood there, the blood that had soaked through his uniform sticky and warm against his skin.

He distantly felt Bucky’s hands on him, pulling him gently through the apartment. He heard the shower turn on, echoing off the walls of their bathroom.

Bucky started undoing the zippers and buckles of Steve’s uniform. Steve tried to help, but his hands trembled too much to be of any real use. Eventually he just gave up, letting his grimy hands fall back to his sides.

He was vaguely aware of Bucky pushing him into their large tile shower. The hot water hit Steve’s skin, but he felt so detached that it barely registered.

Bucky scrubbed at Steve’s hands while Steve watched passively. He watched the grime and blood started to finally slough away, his skin just as pristine and whole underneath as always.

The shower finally turned off, and suddenly Steve was dressed in his sweatpants and sitting on his bed.

He looked up, his hands resting uselessly on his knees. Bucky was carelessly throwing the pieces of Steve’s uniform in the laundry hamper.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Steve said. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet room.

Bucky watched him for a moment. “You don’t have to.”

Steve nodded, feeling his shoulders slump down even further.

Bucky sat next to him after a moment, his warmth at Steve’s side familiar.

Steve suddenly needed to feel something other than the emptiness inside his chest, the hollow feeling in his arms and legs. He leaned into Bucky, fisting his hands in Bucky’s’ hair.

Bucky pushed back against him just as eagerly, pulling his shirt over his head as he did so. Bucky’s skin was hot against Steve’s, finally chasing away some of the chill from his bones.

He let Bucky do most of the work. Steve held onto him as tightly as he could and let pleasure finally take over for the dull ache resonating from the rest of his body. He finally fell asleep, Bucky sprawled half on top of him.

 

They left the next morning. They didn’t take anything with them except for the clothes that they were wearing.  

Steve called Natasha’s voicemail and left her a message, telling her that they were alright and not to worry.

He also left his shield propped against the coffee table in the living room, with a note attached to it that simply said

_Sam,_

_It’s yours if you want it._

Steve walked down to the bank and withdrew as much cash as they’d let him take. Bucky went and bought a second-hand car off the street.

They were out of the city by noon.

They were done.


	10. Chapter 10

They went south for a while, until they realized just how difficult it was to hide Bucky's arm when it was too hot to wear a jacket and gloves.

After that, they just drove for a while. Went to some landmarks. Ate at some roadside diners.

They ended up in probably one of the last places someone would think to look for them. A small town in Oregon, barely a dot on the map and nowhere anyone would ever think to visit.

It was one of those towns that people drive though on their way to another city without stopping. It consisted of a single main stree,t and then the rest of the roads were lined with small wood houses. There was a single restaurant, a bar, a post office, a mechanic shop for the unfortunate tourists whose cars broke down in the vicinity, and a grimy community pool. The town’s residents spent most of their time at the pool or at the equally grimy bar.

Steve and Bucky rented a small house on a nondescript street, with a murky sluggish river running through their backyard. Their neighbours consisted of an elderly woman with an impressively yappy dog, and a family with several consistently-bored teenagers.

They’d rented the house fully furnished. The furniture was a little too floral and frilly for Steve’s liking, but it was comfortable and homey and the bed was big enough to fit both of them.

Bucky got a job down at the garage. They were a little wary about hiring a stranger at first, but they gave him a chance. When one of the cars fell on one of the other employees one afternoon, Bucky lifted it off him easily. He definitely had the job after that.

Steve worked, of all places, at the post office. He sorted the mail, and he shipped off packages. It was boring and slow and paid minimum wage, but between their combined salaries and the extremely low cost of living in their town, they got by.

Steve was also a volunteer firefighter, because he couldn’t just sit around when other people needed help. Bucky made fun of him for it, but when a train derailed outside of the town, Bucky was out there with the rest of them, helping to clean up.

If the town knew who Steve and Bucky were, they either didn’t mention it or just didn’t care. Steve was pretty sure that the rest of the firefighters knew, after one of the larger houses in the town caught fire. Half of it came down on top of Steve’s crew, and he’d pulled the wreckage off them without even thinking about it.

None of them said a word about Steve lifting beams that no one should be able to lift. Instead, they all just clapped him on the shoulder on their way to the tiny medical clinic that operated out of the back of someone’s house.

Steve and Bucky had a tv, but it had no cable. They only used it to watch DVDs. They also didn’t read the newspaper. They had a laptop that Bucky sometimes used to scroll through the headlines, mostly to make sure that the world wasn’t ending or something like that. Other than that, they lived in a state of relatively blissful ignorance.

Natasha called once. She phoned the post office while Steve was at work, leaving him completely baffled as to how she’d gotten that number. _Steve_ didn’t even know the post office’s number.

“Hello?” Steve asked, picking up the dusty, outdated telephone from the desk.

“Hi,” Natasha’s familiar voice said.

Steve smiled when he heard it, but a thrill of unease snaked through his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine. I was just worried about you.”

“We’re good,” Steve said, relaxing a little. “Really. Are you okay?”

There was a slight pause.

“Yeah,” Natasha said finally. “Getting there.”

“Good,” Steve said.

“Okay,” Natasha said. “Bye.”

She hung up, leaving Steve sitting in silence. 

 

It wasn’t perfect, by any means. Bucky spent most of his nights awake, prowling endlessly around their small house as Steve watched him tiredly from their bed. Despite the absolute lack of threats that they’d encountered since arriving, Bucky just couldn’t get rid of his paranoia. Steve couldn’t blame him.

Steve’s nightmares didn’t go away, either. He had far less of them than he’d had before, and they continued to grow fewer and far between. It was much easier to shake them off now, though, when he would wake up in their too-soft bed with its floral sheets. Bucky would be sprawled out beside him, breathing quietly and evenly. Steve could hear the river from their house, and it would help to lull him back to sleep.

They’d have to go back eventually, of course. Neither of them were deluded enough to believe that they could hide out here forever, living like civilians who’s only worry was whether or not they could afford the brand-name tomato sauce at the grocery store in the next town over (they couldn’t).

Their days were monotonous, and Steve loved it. He woke up every morning with Bucky curled against him, the river burbling away outside their window. He got up and made himself breakfast, leaving extra for Bucky. He went to work at his boring job, and walked down to the mechanic shop at lunch to eat with Bucky. He spent the afternoon working, and then in the evenings he and Bucky wouldn’t do anything more than laze around the house. On weekends they mowed their lawn and got groceries. Sometimes, if they were feeling particular daring, they’d go swimming in the river after the sun had set, so that no one could see Bucky’s arm.

It was peaceful. It was a little boring at times, but Steve preferred it to the constant uncertainty and fear that they’d lived in before.

It was probably only a matter of time until they would get dragged back into the fight, but until then, they were doing okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all your comments on each chapter. I'm so grateful for each and every one of them :)

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


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